Chapter 162
Chapter 162
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 162
Chapter Title: Sudden Academy Scout Recommendation
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Suddenly, I received an invitation to scout for the academy.
The old man must have sensed great potential in me, as he persistently demanded that I accept his recommendation.
Honestly, I figured I’d naturally have talent.
After all, Als was the protagonist. It would be weirder if he didn’t.
‘Royal Academy, huh….’
The academy accepted transfer students in two weeks.
The next intake after that wouldn’t be for a full year. The old man said I could decide then and to take my time, but from my perspective, pressed for time, this was practically the only chance to enroll in the Royal Academy.
Byron, where the academy was located, was also the city I’d decided to use as a base, and I could learn magic there too—a win-win. Still, I didn’t want to leave the North Continent too soon.
‘If only I could set up some kind of contact point.’
The communication network in this world was annoyingly underdeveloped.
The continent I’d come from had no magic but a far superior information network. All the nations were on one landmass, and with the former Pensilon Empire unifying it, communications were well-established.
Here, the land was too vast, and they were still pioneering territory seized from monsters, so networks were rudimentary.
‘Isn’t there some way?’
Leaving someone behind in Lamdamen would be most effective, but I didn’t have the money to hire anyone.
That left me with two choices.
Leave right away, or grind out enough money to establish a contact and then go.
Opting for the latter, I headed to the mercenary guild to earn cash.
Commission work was the most efficient for making a quick buck in a short time.
Lamdamen was a big city, so there was plenty of demand for commissions.
“Welcome. What brings you here?”
A man who seemed to be the guild receptionist greeted me in a gravelly voice.
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“You… weren’t you here the day before yesterday? Yeah, you were looking for someone, right?”
“That’s right. You remember.”
“Of course I do. The descriptions of the people you were after were memorable, and your face stands out. So? Here for the same thing today?”
“I’ve got other business, but if you’ve heard anything, I’d love to know.”
“Hmm. A few leads matching your descriptions popped up. I did a little digging.”
“Really?!”
The traits I’d described were four.
—A female mercenary wielding dual weapons
—A pureblood beastkin brimming with wild energy
—A blue-haired woman using a spear
The first was Ilya’s master, the second Gaspar, the third Eonia.
The rest lacked distinct features, so I’d searched by name, but these three were different.
Searching by traits was easier.
Given their skills, rumors would spread fast.
That’s why I’d given traits along with names for them.
Apparently, a few matched.
“Funny thing—two bits of info came from the same place. Larment, a city. Word is a beautiful spear-wielding woman showed up there, seeking a worthy opponent to best her in martial prowess.”
“Someone to beat her…? Does she offer a reward if you win?”
“Who knows, something probably. Maybe she’s looking to marry a stronger man or whatever.”
It felt off, but if it was noise marketing, it made sense. Rumors like that spread like wildfire.
She might’ve stirred things up provocatively to get the word out.
Hard to imagine Eo pulling that off, but if Bisceta suggested it, it fit.
“What about the other one?”
“Beastkin intel. There’s a small bandit gang prowling near Larment. Recently, they split into two factions due to infighting.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Keep listening. One faction’s led by a pureblood beastkin. Victims say she’s got astonishing skill.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, that’s your answer. Pay up the info fee.”
“Ah, sure.”
Quoting the info first, then asking for payment. Well, it wasn’t vital intel to him.
I paid a fair amount and shifted to other matters.
“Jobs to make money? We’ve got more than enough. But you—got the skills? You’re just a green kid.”
“I can protect myself.”
“No guarantees if you die.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to throw you into danger anyway. Fine, if you insist….”
Short on hands, apparently—he skipped the chatter and handled the registration.
*
*
*
The job he lined up was as a porter for a merchant caravan.
No danger, no mercenary credentials needed.
Best of all, they were heading to Larment.
The guild guy had good instincts.
“Faster, faster! We need to reach Larment before sundown!”
The merchant bellowed at the porters.
Twenty wagons for the caravan, guarded by thirty escorts. Compared to the mere five porters, that was a lot of muscle.
Most were mercenaries, but hunters and lumberjacks—folks with some strength—were mixed in.
They lounged around, chatting boastfully.
Hating the sight, the merchant yelled.
“If you’ve got time for that, help load the cargo!”
“Why should we? Our job’s protecting you, not hauling luggage.”
They all burst into laughter—ha ha ha!
From their view, no rush. Delays meant extra pay.
Reading their game, the merchant sighed in frustration.
“Haven’t you heard? Bandits are rampant near Larment lately. If we’re caught after dark, they might hit us!”
“Bandits? Let ’em come. That’s why we hired this many.”
“T-That’s….”
“Save your nagging for the porters.”
“Tch.”
The merchant shook his head and turned to us.
I thought he’d chew us out, but no.
“Take it slow, everyone—don’t get hurt. Without their help, rushing won’t matter.”
He even pitched in loading himself.
Intrigued, he seemed decent. As a merchant, he’d know info from all over.
Chatting him up, he grinned.
“Stories from elsewhere? I’m a Lamdamen local. Been with this caravan just a year.”
Moric, he said, lit up at the company and spilled his life story as I nodded along.
“As a kid, I dreamed of being an adventurer—learned magic and martial arts…. But no talent means nothing. Martial arts scared me in fights, so I quit. Magic never improved, so I gave up. Then age caught up…. This was all I had left.”
He said tons were like that.
“Sigh, merchant life’s not bad, but you get looked down on.”
In this monster-ridden world, personal strength ruled—a unique bias.
‘Opposite of ours.’
We were army-focused; individual power wasn’t key. One strong guy changes nothing.
Generals and merchants backing states and armies held sway.
Here, strength grabbed everything.
Conquer monster lands, claim them outright.
Strong drew stronger, forming factions. Savior Alliance groups were prime examples.
“Sigh, if only I’d had magic talent.”
“No need to be pessimistic. Money’s what matters ultimately. Merchants aren’t so bad in that sense, right?”
“Yeah, true.”
Moric eyed the dimming sky, scratching his head.
“Time flies. Alright, everyone—set up camp!”
Escorts pitched tents, faces calm—no tension.
They didn’t expect bandits, or trusted they could handle them.
*
*
*
The caravan leisurely prepped camp.
Unseen, a group eyed them.
Just six up front, but thirty-odd trailed at a distance.
“Quite the escort…. That beastkin’s raid last time raised their guard, huh.”
“What do we do?”
“What do you mean? No choice—do it! Skip this, we’re done!”
“Damn that beastkin…!”
They were local bandit leaders.
Boss Peller and underboss Talon.
They’d lived off tolls from merchants, scams and usury on villagers.
Stayed small to dodge national crackdowns.
But a new beastkin recruit changed that.
She called their ways tame, pushed aggressive ops. Many flocked to her fire; the gang split.
Peller couldn’t sit idle. Had to outdo her to win the power struggle.
This hit was part of it.
Sun fully set, he signaled.
“Let’s go!”
Bandits rushed the camp tents.
“W-What!?”
“Bandits! Battle stations, everyone!”
Escorts scrambled into formation—clumsy.
Mostly low-tier mercs; even experienced ones had monster hunts, not man-killing.
They hesitated as bandits charged.
Bandits struck ruthless.
Peller outclassed the mercs.
“Die!”
Crack! His club smashed a frontliner’s skull; escorts panicked.
Casual hunters and lumberjacks lost will fast. Dark night let some mercs slip away.
“Ha ha ha! Surrender if you don’t wanna die! We’ll spare your lives!”
Peller bellowed boldly, inwardly tense. Delay might bring the beastkin.
‘Grab the merchant quick, end it.’
Moric nagging mercs was perfect prey.
“Talon! Snag that guy!”
“Got it!”
Talon lunged at Moric.
He aimed to knock him out, end it—but that thought ended there.
Thud! Spear tip pierced Talon’s head.
Als coldly overlooked the crumpling man, charging the rest.
Whoosh! Thunk! Each swing felled one. Bandit lives snuffed out.
“W-What the hell’s that guy?!”
Peller recoiled. Skill aside, the ruthlessness differed.
Mercs hesitated to kill humans; Als butchered bandits like monsters.
Peller knew: this guy had killed countless.
Like that beastkin.
“Wait… grk?!”
Als stabbed Peller’s knee, eyes icy.
“You’re the bandits operating around here, right?”
“G-Guh…!”
“So. Where’s the rumored beastkin?”
Peller groaned silent; Als speared the other knee.
“Gaaah! D-Don’t know! She’s acting separate now!”
“What’s the beastkin’s name?”
“That’s….”
Als’s eyes chilled—threat of death if delayed. Peller screamed.
“Gaspar! She said Gaspar!”
Another retainer found, after Gunter.
Als smirked.
Peller mistook it for bloodlust, pissed himself, fainted.
*
*
*
Finding Gaspar was huge.
Solo operator, scout and intel expert—perfect for searches.
I moved to meet him ASAP, but Moric blocked.
“Wait!”
Eyes wide, he blurted.
“What the hell are you?!”
“Just a porter?”
“That make sense?!”
I got it—what he meant.
Why porter, not guard?
Too lazy for guard quals—days of vetting.
Not impossible for hunters or loggers, but time sink.
Payoff not worth it, so porter.
“More importantly, Moric. Got other business—mind if I step out briefly? Back by dawn.”
“No way!”
He barked.
“What if more hit while you’re gone?”
“Plenty left.”
“Those useless idiots won’t help!”
Mercs looked sheepish, averted eyes.
Moric pressed on.
“I’ll give you all the deserters’ shares. Stick with us to Larment.”
“Uh….”
Different story now.
Knew Gaspar nearby—no rush. His crew might even come here.
Likely the latter.
Per intel, these bandits and Gaspar’s were once one.
Word of this massacre would draw reaction.
Spot on.
Scouting presences, I nabbed a spying bandit.
“Guh! Let go!”
“Shh. Quiet if you wanna live.”
“Ugh…!”
I’d use him to reach Gaspar.
“Tell your boss… Wade’s waiting in Larment.”
Hesitant to give real name to scum, used Wade.
Released, he bolted.
Gaspar handled.
‘Luck turning? Or not just luck.’
Felt deliberate.
Gaspar bandit-ing to stand out?
‘Totally her style.’
Use gang for intel, build infamy to draw people.
Ruthless, but effective.
Made the spearwoman seeking rivals in Larment sound like Eonia too.
Reunion with Eo thrilled me.
Pushed it down, bedded for night.